


Never

by PhoenixDragon



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Dark, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-10-26
Updated: 2009-10-26
Packaged: 2017-10-11 23:14:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/118234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhoenixDragon/pseuds/PhoenixDragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Really, he was about as noticeable and <em>there</em> as a really stunning floor lamp. Shiny, pretty, been in the family a spell - and one was always used to it being there - but nothing to go brag to your mama about.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never

  
It was never about him - not really. Even as his ass was hauled back to life again and again - it was never really about him, never really _for_ him. He'd always somehow known it, deep down where he stored all the dark and hateful thoughts and ideas that formed when the night breathed with him and the mirror stared back at its most malevolent. It was never about him - it was always about _them_.

Really, he was about as noticeable and _there_ as a really stunning floor lamp. Shiny, pretty, been in the family a spell - and one was always used to it being there - but nothing to go brag to your mama about. It was brought home to him in a hardcore way when Dad died. When Dad died and left a shitty mess to dump in his lap (being too much of a coward to do it himself) - that he was brought back (only) because he had a job to do.

The irony of it made his stomach twist and the demon/thing inside shudder with black laughter - that he was brought back in _spite_ of being his son. The bite of bile was almost welcome, even as he swallowed it back - the sting against his throat a reminder and a chide for being alive.

It was even more devastating when his inner self pointed it out - harsh and blunt was always his way in his own mind - but to have your face rubbed in the fact. Well...a shotgun was too good for 'im.

It was never really about him. It was never really _for_ him - but nothing made him long for Hell and the warm 'comforts' of familiarity that It brought than the look on Sam's face when he thought he wasn't paying attention. Hell was steady, he knew his place there - and in many ways, it was so much more expansive than what he found here. _There_ he mattered - there he was _important_ \- even **favored** \- here, he was...Sam's brother. Sam's brother or a really nice floor lamp - sometimes he didn't know which, sometimes he didn't care - but most of the time (just like in the old days) he didn't really notice. It was never really about him - but as he looked at Sam (always, always out of the corner of his eye) even as Sam searched desperately for him while he was **right here** -

Sometimes he wished it was...

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer(s): I do not own them - sadly. I would hurt them more if I did, and they'd NEVER be the same! They're safer with Kripke. At least I _think_ they are! *Looks worried*.


End file.
